


azure

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Romantic Fluff, durmstrang viktor and mahoutokoro yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:01:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: Yuuri visits his boyfriend, admires some breathtaking scenery, and witnesses Durmstrang Institute's world-renowned star Quidditch player fall off his own broom, not necessarily in that order.  (That last one may or may not be his fault, depending on who one asks.)





	azure

Durmstrang Institute is, much like Viktor has repeatedly assured him, beautiful.  The castle itself is larger than Mahoutokoro’s jade palace, though Yuuri personally thinks his own school has a more intricate and lovely design, but the grounds are _stunning._   He doesn’t entirely know where they are, precisely, but the mountains and lakes are so pristine, and oh, the green of the trees against the bright blue sky—

“Appreciating the view?” Viktor asks, drifting almost lazily on his broom with a matching lazy, content smile.  Yuuri shifts close enough to gently bump his shoulder.

“Yes,” he says, “but I wasn’t looking at you, if that’s what you meant.”

Viktor laughs.  “You wound me, dear,” he says, nudging back.  “Except not really, because I love that look you get on your face when you’re enjoying yourself.  Go on, keep looking around, I’ll keep quiet!”

Suddenly self-conscious, Yuuri ducks his head as the wind picks up.  “What look?” he asks, squinting against the breeze.  It’s cold against his face, and belatedly, he’s starting to realize that maybe an extra layer or five might have been useful before going flying up here, but… oh well.  It’s too late to go back to Viktor’s room to dig through his suitcase now, and a little cold never hurt anyone. 

(Besides, it’ll be a great excuse for them to have tea together later, not that they really need one.)

“The one where your eyes get all big and shiny and you get that one specific little smile!” Viktor says, leaning forward slightly.  He takes one hand from his broom to reach over and touch Yuuri’s lips, just a brush of his gloved fingers, and yet somehow it sends shivers of a wholly different kind tingling down his spine.  “It’s adorable.  Please, ignore my interruption.”

Yuuri presses his lips together and puffs out his cheeks, not sure what to say.  “I’m not adorable.”

“Should I say charming, lovable, delightful, or scrumptious instead?” Viktor asks.  Yuuri leans to the side and dips into a lazy spiral, curving below and then above him to get a better view of the still, reflective pond they’re flying over.  His silvery-golden robes (almost pure gold, except for his abysmal marks last year after—well.  Now isn’t a good time to dwell on that) billow out behind him like a cloud, and Viktor’s cape flutters in the wind, too. 

There he is, Viktor Nikiforov in all his pink-cheeked, blue-eyed, silver-haired glory, with the guts to call _Yuuri_ the charming one.  He shakes his head, scoffing.

“I can’t believe the man almost as beautiful as this landscape is calling _me_ pretty!” he calls, swooping into a sharp dive, sharp enough that he can nearly reach out and skim his fingers along the water.  The surface ripples from the wind of his flight, distorting Viktor’s reflection as he dives after.

“ _Almost?”_

Laughing, Yuuri leans back and starts to climb again, almost but not quite vertical.  The thrill of the fall settles in his chest, warm and exhilarating, and he can’t help the grin tugging at his cheeks.  “That’s what I said!  I’m sorry, Vitya, but these mountains are in a whole other league entirely!”

“You’re more beautiful than all the mountains and lakes combined!” Viktor shoots back, his voice carried on the wind as he ascends too, zooming after Yuuri with ease.  “So it’s only natural that I’d be calling you pretty!”

“Oh, stop that!” Yuuri complains, ducking his head again to try and hide his blush.  “You big flatterer!”

“It’s not flattery if it’s truth,” Viktor says with a merry smile and a dainty shrug, coming to fly next to him again.  Yuuri nudges his broom closer, until they’re side-by-side and close enough to touch, their flight slow as they drift on gentle currents like a wide, sedate river.

“Then I have to amend my statement,” he says, reaching for one of Viktor’s gloved hands.  “If I’m prettier than the mountains and lakes, and that’s an if, mind you, then you’re much, much more beautiful than the entire sky, and everything under it.”

“Oh!”  Viktor’s other hand flies up to his mouth, and for a moment Yuuri worries he’ll fall from his broom, so he tightens his grip to make sure he doesn’t even though he’s quite aware that Viktor is easily his equal in flight skill.  Probably his better, really.  “And who’s the flatterer now?”

Yuuri squeezes his hand and offers him a genuine, happy smile.  “And you’re even cuter when you blush,” he adds, then immediately drops into another quick dive and a roll instead of waiting for a response.  Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he sees Viktor, flustered and waving a hand in complaint as he follows, protesting. 

“I—what—I’m not blushing!  _Yuuri!_ It’s the wind!”

A laugh bubbles up in his throat and spills from his mouth, torn from his lips by the rushing wind, and Yuuri pulls himself into a hard, fast corkscrew just for the fun of it, then shoots upward in a big loop.  There isn’t much better than flying above scenery this breathtaking, especially not when one is flying with the most beautiful man in the world.

“You can’t just say that and rush off!” Viktor is complaining, drawing closer again.  Yuuri just grins, feeling lighter than ever, all stuffed with giddy golden butterflies that thrive on the freedom of being out here, _up_ here, with just the two of them.  He hasn’t felt this free in a long time.

“I can,” he points out.  “I just did.”

“You better not do it again,” Viktor pouts, eyes twinkling.  Joy shines in his face, brighter than the sun, and his wind-mussed hair floats about so enticingly that Yuuri almost abandons his hold on his broom just to lean over and run his hands through it.  It’s silvery-white in the sunlight, almost like a halo, and it’s kind of a pity that they’re flying way up here, because that raw delight makes Yuuri want to grab him and kiss him senseless, which would be a bit of a health hazard.  So he really should find something else to distract himself with.

Besides, Viktor just issued what _clearly_ is a challenge to do it again, and what kind of boyfriend would he be to let him down?

So Yuuri just grins at him, competitive spirit coming out again.  Viktor must be able to see it, because he lets out a playful groan.  “Oh no,” he says.  “Don’t you dare, you—”

“I think you have a really cute nose,” Yuuri blurts out, then shoots forward as fast as he can, the wind making his eyes water.  Behind him, he hears Viktor let out a shout.

“ _Yuuri!”_

“Catch me if you can!” he calls back, because if they make it a chase, he can pretend he’s only red-cheeked because of the wind and the chill, not from the embarrassment of just having told Viktor he has a cute nose _to his face_.  And Viktor is just as competitive as he is, so he’ll play.

And then it’s on, up and down and back and forth and around, through the forests and over the slopes, skimming the lakes and reaching high for the clouds.  It’s a beautiful day, except for the cold, and Yuuri can’t stop laughing as he darts away from Viktor, who stays right on his tail, always just out of reach.  The minutes fly by like seconds, until they’re both out of breath, floating above a clifftop meadow.  It’s very green.

“Wow,” Yuuri breathes, leaning forward until he’s almost flat on his broom as he looks down, over the edge of the cliff.  The wind picks up again, blowing his hair back from his face, and he scrunches up his nose against it, looking at the sharp fall of the cliffside, leaping down to meet the cold, blue fjord far below.  A little waterfall like white lace dances its way down the sheer rock, so distant it could be a thread.

A sudden yelp grabs his attention, and he whips around just in time to see Viktor go tumbling off his broom.  Alarm bells explode as Yuuri races back toward him, watching as if in slow-motion as he starts to fall, fall, fall…

…and lands with a _thump_ in the grass of the meadow.

Heart pounding in his throat because of how close he is to the cliff’s edge, Yuuri urges his broom down, suddenly terrified.  Viktor is face-down.  He’s not moving.  Oh, god, what happened?  How did he fall?  Is he—

“Vitya!” he cries, swooping in low and muttering a curse as he tries to detangle himself and his robes from the broom.  Dammit, he really should have tied them up properly earlier!  “Vitya, are you okay?  Oh my god, Vitya—”

Viktor rolls over, his hands covering his face.  “Yuuri,” he says, and his voice _trembles._ Oh, no, no no no, is he crying?  What happened, what happened, what _happened?_   “Yuuri, I’m ruined.  My dignity is gone.  It’s all your fault; you did this to me.”

Confusion and guilt rise, and his hands still on the broom.  Yuuri sits there in midair, blinking, before he finally tries to find words.  “I… what?  Sorry, I…”

Viktor moves his hands aside, and _oh,_ he’s not crying at all.  He’s _laughing._   His face is all pink and there’s a shy smile there as he laughs, and now he’s holding out his arms, the universal invitation for a hug.  “Yuuri!” he exclaims, shaking his head.  “I fell because—of all things!—I got distracted by thinking of how _cute_ you looked just now!  Come here, I need at least ten hugs to feel better.”

Relief comes first, hard-hitting and heady, and it spills out as laughter.  _Viktor Nikiforov,_ of all people, fell off his broom because he got distracted?  Yuuri can’t help but giggle at him.

And then the rest of his sentence clicks into place, and with it, Yuuri flips the switch from _incredibly amused_ to _awfully flustered_ in a heartbeat.  “You _what?!”_ he yelps.  How cute he—but he wasn’t even _doing_ anything—!

Heat floods his cheeks faster than a falling Quidditch star hits the ground, making him instinctively try to bury his face in his hands, and the next thing he knows, the world is tilting dangerously and then there’s a hard impact against his shoulder and back and hip and ankle, and he blinks, confused, up at the sky.

“Oh my god,” Viktor says, next to him.  He starts to laugh all over again, then rolls over and drapes his arm and leg over Yuuri.  “And they say love gives us wings,” he sighs mournfully, and the entire situation is so ridiculous that Yuuri just has to laugh.

He turns and is greeted by those same sky-blue eyes he was admiring earlier, now sparkling with both laughter and warmth.  Viktor smiles at him with all the tenderness in the world, and Yuuri presses their foreheads together, heart still pounding from the exhilaration of their flight.

“I still think you’re very cute when you blush,” he says, and pecks the tip of Viktor’s (very cute) nose.  Viktor, of course, blushes.

“You’re even cuter when you’re making those faces at the wind,” he says, his hand finding its way into Yuuri’s hair.  The leather of his glove is slightly cool against Yuuri’s scalp, and when the wind blows again, he has to stifle a shiver.

…Viktor’s cape is right there.

Sitting up, he ignores Viktor’s soft questioning mewl and reaches for the buckle instead, undoing the clasp as it sits snug across Viktor’s chest.  Viktor makes an odd little choked sound.

“You know, dear, if you plan on undressing me, there might be better places than—”

Blushing harder, Yuuri tugs at the cape.  “I’m stealing this,” he says, tugging at it again, and Viktor stops.  Then he laughs.

“Of course,” he says.  Then he sits up too, wraps it around the both of them, and pulls Yuuri close, against his chest.  His arms are warm and snug, wrapped around him as they are, and Yuuri smiles happily, leaning into him.  “What’s mine is yours.  I told you that when you first got here.”

“You’re mine,” Yuuri teases, closing his eyes and tucking his head into the crook of Viktor’s neck, nice and cozy.  The cape blocks the wind very effectively, and Viktor radiates heat.  He could fall asleep like this.

Viktor takes a moment to reply, and Yuuri blinks, opening his eyes just in time to catch his boyfriend looking down at him with the most gentle, tender expression in the world.  It makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“Yeah,” Viktor agrees warmly.  “I am.”

He closes his eyes when Yuuri leans up and kisses him, but Yuuri doesn't need to see them to know that they're blue, blue, blue, far richer than the horizon stretching out endlessly above the two of them.  And even with the mountains, valleys, and tumbling waterfalls, the smile on Viktor's face when Yuuri pulls back to snuggle into him again is by far the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.


End file.
